


Bloodsport

by poisontaster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Study, Episode Related, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Gen, POV John Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-29
Updated: 2006-03-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:18:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4926550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is just a bloodsport.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodsport

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luridmuse](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=luridmuse).



When John thinks of his sons, he thinks of them together; a single unit, a team, a family. Not really Sam and Dean, but some amalgam of both: _SamandDean_

He loves his boys, he does, but he's also held his distance from them across all these years; he's had to, because he's seen the kind of destruction his love can wreak. And he's felt the chasms of despair that loving too much and too well can open up in him and he's too weak a man to want to go visiting there again. It cost him so much and so dearly to find his way out the first time, lit by the burning torch of his hatred; he doesn't know if he could do it a second time.

Most of the time, he looks at them and he sees Mary; in the crazy sweetness of Dean's smile, in the silent expressionism of Sam's eyes. She marked them with the essence of herself and he's grateful for it, so dumbly grateful that he has this little bit of her to hold onto in the world. He's grateful that there's this much of her left to light the world she left behind. But it aches too, the constant reminder. He looks at them and his heart responds whether he wants it to or not and though sometimes he'd rather it would die black and shriveled in his chest.

Other times, though, he'll be reminded that his blood is in them as well. Less concrete here; a particular cant of the head as Sam aims the crossbow, pulling just a little left, just like his old man, Dean's white lipped silences, even when in the worst kind of pain like when he got shot by that farmer in Nebraska in mistake for a fox. And then, he feels chilled and cold, because he's afraid. Afraid of them and for them; afraid of what will happen to them when they are out of his reach or he's out of theirs.

Love kills. Their love most of all.

And so he does his best to prepare them for that eventuality. He teaches them to stand and remember. He teaches them to move and hold lightly or not at all. He teaches them to fight and to think and never go down. And…sometimes that backfires, as when Sam stands against him and fights with him, but there's a certain pride to be taken in that too. Because they are _not_ sheep, his sons, and when he can't protect them, he feels more confident that they will be able to protect themselves and each other. Because from the moment he handed Sam into Dean's arms and told him _Go!_ , Sam and Dean have always belonged to each other.

But then Sam leaves. And though John feels like he should have seen the signs as easily as he can trace bear scat or demon spoor, in this he's been caught flatfooted and off guard. Because while he knows that he will not be a part of his sons forever, he never thought that Sam would walk away from Dean. Not when they both need each other so much and not when the dangers of being alone and without back-up are so high.

Dean is…broken. Not that he would ever show any such thing, of course, but the cracks show glaring, as if in strong sunlight. John's his father, of course he sees it. And again this pain, this horrid pain of loss and of watching Dean lose, and really, Sam too. Because the path Sam's chosen for himself is almost infinitely harder. John hates it and hates that he's helpless to prevent it, as helpless as he was to help Mary. Of all the things he's learned since his life went up in flame, it seems like he should have learned that first and best—to prevent that awful impotence to help or fix.

He gives Dean back to the hunt, the only thing he has to offer in place of Sam, the only other thing he knows Dean loves with all his heart. But without Sam, Dean's smiles are pale and no longer Mary's; in Dean, John only sees himself.

He gives Sam to his new life, the only thing he has to offer in place of the mother Sam never knew. He goes when and how he can, to watch from afar; to see Sam emerge limpingly into the light of day that he so seldom saw as a hunter. But from afar, he can't see Sam's eyes; he can only see the girl, laughing at Sam's side and again, John only sees himself in a sense of déjà vu that turns him sick and sweaty.

He's not there when Sam's girl goes in billowing clouds of flame and memory…but he knows Dean is. And he knows…it's right. Blood will out. Particularly theirs. And if his boys must bleed, at least they'll do it together, back to back; as much protection as he and Mary would ever be able to give them. As much as any parent ever can.


End file.
